


It's only a dream.

by sapphirebluerubyredroses



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 23:43:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13422126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirebluerubyredroses/pseuds/sapphirebluerubyredroses
Summary: Rey had been dreaming of him for months. At first, she thought it was the Force reminding her of what she had seen in Kylo Ren -Ben Solo- when they had touched hands.





	It's only a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fuck it fic that has been rolling around my head for the past month or so.

Rey had been dreaming of him for months. At first, she thought it was the Force reminding her of what she had seen in Kylo Ren -Ben Solo- when they had touched hands.

That's what it had felt like. Just a reminder. Just a glimpse of the hope she had held for him. It was always just that. The touch of his hand against hers, burning against frigid. The flash of his future, of what he could have become, of who he could become, and then she would wake with a gasp in the Millennium Falcon.

Cold sweat would drip down her brow, still warm from the fire in her dream, and she'd wipe it away with a huff before falling into sleep as black as a stormy night.

The dreams didn't stay the same though. Weeks passed, the same dream over and over, night after night, until it changed. Until one night, she touched his hand and the flash never came, the pull of the Force never filled her chest. She simply stared into his eyes, black and intense and holding so much emotion.

Until one night, she touched his hand and instead of the world slowing to a stop as she stared at him, his hand slid further along hers until his fingers wrapped around hers.

Until one night, she willingly slid her hand into his waiting hand and clung to the warmth of his palm as if it were the last hope in the universe.

The dream changed rapidly after she gave into the urge. The dream was always the same, always the same but always progressing.

Inch by inch, night by night, his hand slid from her hand to her elbow to her shoulder to cup her neck. She reveled in the warmth of him, in the roughness of his skin, the same as hers. She leaned into his touch, a whisper of his name on her lips as her eyes slid closed, “Ben.”

He was a monster. He had been a monsters for years upon years, but she wanted his touch, craved it.

Each night they drew closer until she thought she would go mad with longing.

The dream plagued her every waking moment. Doubt and longing and hatred for that longing soured her mood. During slow days, she would find reasons to sleep, trying to draw the dream closer, trying to draw Kylo Ren -Ben Solo- just an inch closer to her. It only came at night no matter whether she was on a planet or in space, at the peak of her sleep.

Each night, his hands found new places to touch her, to caress her cold skin. The back of her neck, the inside of her wrists, her jaw, through her hair where he pulled it from its bindings. Until one night, he was so close that she could feel his breath on her lips and she leaned forward.

Kissing Kylo Ren - **no, Ben Solo** \- was like no other kiss she had experienced before. Even in her dreams, she could feel the power between them, the light and the dark and the balance between. Just like the man he was, his kiss was hard and unyielding, but slowly softened with her insistence.

When they broke apart, she woke, and didn't go back to sleep that night.

She forced herself to remain awake, always moving, always keeping her hands busy, always trying to force the dream from her mind. As the days passed, she began to make mistakes, rookie mistakes. She began to see him around every corner, in every dark space until she couldn't tell if she was hallucinating or if the Force was reaching out to bring him closer to her.

It was only when not only Finn, but Leia... and Chewie... and ever Rose and Poe intervened.

When they kissed again that night and pulled away enough for Ben to run his thumb over her bottom lip, the dream did not end. When their lips met again, heat blossomed between them, filled her chest and spilled over into her body.

Pulling away, she panted against Ben's mouth, staring at his lips. The dream did not end.

He tugged her chin up, and she lifted her eyes to meet his. His eyes were flint, ready to spark and light a fire within her she wasn't sure she'd be able to extinguish.

She didn't want to extinguish it. She wanted to let the fire burn her alive from the inside out.

To that point, he had been the one touching her, exploring every inch of exposed skin. His hand was on the back of her neck, the other on her jaw. His chest was heaving, his eyes focused on hers.

Pressing her hand to his chest, she leaned back towards him. Her kiss was hungrier this time, more insistent, more needy. She needed this like she needed water. She needed his lips on hers, his eyes on her, his hands on her. She needed everything he had to offer.

She wasn't supposed to have it.

The dream did not end when his fingers tugged at the loose strands of her hair. The dream did not end when she pulled open his cowl. The dream did not end when she ran her fingers over his exposed chest, and he inhaled sharply.

She lifted herself on a knee, towering over him, until he was the one looking up at her. Her hands were feverish and rushed as she slid them through his hair, thick and curly, and down his neck, over his chest, exploring every in of bare skin she could reach.

He was more tentative, sliding his hands up the length of her body from her thighs to her breasts to her shoulders. He tugged at the bottom of her shirt as if requesting permission, but she did it herself.

She broke their kiss long enough to jerk the shirt over her head and throw it to the floor.

His hands were on her waist, his eyes roaming up and down her body. He didn't speak as he leaned forward and placed a kiss to the skin above her naval.

A gasp slipped from her mouth as he slipped up her body, leaving kiss after kiss in his wake. He pressed a kiss to one peaked nipple through the fabric of her bindings and then the other, and then he pulled them from her body.

He sucked a nipple into the scorching heat of his mouth and she moaned, “Ben.” She felt him react beneath her.

His shoulders tensed, his arm wrapping around her waist to jerk her against him. He bit down gently.

She released a longer moan. Heat dropped low in her body, coiling between her legs.

The dream did not end as he guided her to her bedroll. The dream did not end as he kissed her slowly, gently. The dream did not end as she lifted her hips for him to pull her pants and under clothes from her hips.

Two shards of heat embedded themselves in her cheeks as Ben's eyes seemed to drink her in.

She placed a hand on his chest when he slid towards her again, one of his hands on one of her knees.

He did not speak, and neither did she. There was no need to communicate when touch and the look in ones eyes were enough. This time, she only had to tug at the waistband of his pants, and in only a moment, they were bare to the universe and bare to each other. Glancing away from his face, she spread her knees at his prompting, and gasped when his hand found the place the heat had settled in her body.

Sex had never been something Rey had ever had the time nor the partner for. She was inexperienced, but in her dreams, her body knew exactly what to do, exactly where to kiss, exactly where to touch to make Ben squeeze his eyes shut. Shame and shyness were nonexistent between them, and she fell into every touch, every scan of his eyes, every sound coaxed from his lips to accompany one of her own.

Sex with Ben Solo was not how she'd imagined the act to be in her most private of day dreams. She'd always imagined sex to be caustic and chaotic, a little animalistic in the rush to find pleasure. She'd thought that sex with Ben Solo would be that, rough, only taking and no giving. She thought it'd be teeth and snarls and biting. If she was honest with herself, she had thought that sex with Ben Solo would be nothing short of hate sex, but instead he gave her lovemaking.

In this moment between them, there was no trace of the man she knew to be Kylo Ren, as if he were an entirely different person. That wasn't far off. In her dreams, he could be anyone because it wasn't real. It wasn't really Kylo Ren or Ben Solo in the end. It was just her and a figment of her imagination.

So, Ben Solo gave her love making because that was what the Ben Solo in her mind would do.

He coaxed her to the edge of oblivion with fingers and tongue. He learned every inch of her skin with his mouth and hands. He made her feel as if she were something to him, and she craved his touch even as his hands were on her.

She traced every mountain and valley of muscle with her fingertips. She learned every crevice of his lips and mouth with her lips and tongue. She learned the perfect balance of give and take that made his guard lower, even for a moment. Just as in everything, there was a balance in their lovemaking.

When he pushed inside of her, he watched her face for any sign of discomfort or pain so intently that she had to press a heel into his back to prompt him into movement.

He rolled his hips forward, slowly, carefully, tentatively. They were learning together, learning the delicate push and pull, learning patience and attention. Her heel dug deeper into his back, and he understood the command without words. A little faster, a little harder.

She melted beneath him, his hands reducing her to the simplest of her forms with every touch, every drag of his fingers. There was his hand on her hip, her hand between their bodies, and their hands pressed palm to palm above her head.

They were close to the end, so close she could feel it beginning to tremble through her body. She wanted it to come. She wanted it to roll through her body, to break her to pieces, but she knew that once it ended, so would her dream. They could slow its approach, hold it at bay, but that would do them no good. They inched closer to their completion, and when they finished, it was with trembling hands and sighed names and a feeling of misery.

They shared a kiss that lasted a century. They were heavy breaths and laced fingers. They were sweaty hair and tangled limbs. They were heartbeats and hands on jaws.

“Rey,” Ben whispered, and the dream ended.

…..

She was covered in sweat, and the place between her legs was warm and sticky. Sitting up slowly, she skimmed her fingers along her lips. She could still feel his hands on her, gentle and warm. He was imprinted into her skin. She could still smell him all around her, smell _them_ , and she glanced towards Rose's bunk worriedly as if just the scent would draw her from her dreams.

“He's a monster,” she reminded herself, had to remind herself. Shame and despair and longing reared up within her, filling her to the brim and leaving no room for other emotions. “There's no light left within him. There's no saving him.” His hands had been gentle though, and she thought back to that first touch.

“He's a monster,” she told herself again, “There's no saving him. He called you nothing, and he turned his back on the light. You don't want him, and he doesn't want you.” She was hard pressed to believe her own words though.

Rey did not go back to sleep that night. She remained awake, shoved deep in her own head with her arms wrapped around her knees and the feel of Ben Solo's hands on her body. When the others started to wake, she gathered herself and joined them.

During the day, she fought Kylo Ren's forces, helping the Rebellion grow stronger with each victory. She continued to remind herself that there was no saving Kylo Ren. He had to do that himself, but he wouldn't.

During the night, she came to him in that stone cottage on that tiny planet where he waited. They made love and held each other close after. They never spoke because if they did, it would shatter the illusion she had built for herself.

She didn't want the dreams to end, but she hated what they did to her, making her believe there may be a chance of saving Ben Solo. There wasn't. In the end, she would have to kill him or he would have to kill her. There was nothing about their story that hinted at a happy ending.

“It's only a dream,” she reminded herself day by day, and maybe one day she would believe it.

…..

Kylo Ren woke with a jolt, his chest heaving and his sheets hopelessly tangled around his legs. He could feel Rey's lips on his, kissing him slowly with the heat of her tongue searing his mouth and the cold of her fingers cooling the fire beneath his skin. He sat up, cradling his head in his hands.

He'd been dreaming of Rey for months, but only recently had the dreams progressed to him slipping between her legs each night to give her everything he could offer. To him pressing his mouth to her heat to make her moan. To him being able to make love to her in the only way he knew how. They had been teaching each other, night after night, Dream Rey and hungry Kylo Ren.

He found it an odd term “making love”. Apt for what Dream Rey and hungry Kylo did each night, but unsuited for them as a whole. As a younger man, it had confused him that two people could “make love” without being in love, and he wasn't faring much better as a man.

What he would never have in the light of day, his dreams gave him in the dark of night. Never would he have Rey leaning over him to kiss down his stomach. Never would he kiss Rey until they were both breathless. Never would he have her love, or make love to her. Never, but for in his dreams.

He was shamed by them, by his longing, by his need for her touch. He was shamed, but unwilling to give them up.

“It's only a dream,” he told himself again, as he did every night. She may have felt so real that even his mind was fooled, the sound of his name on her lips, the wetness between her legs, the taste of her mouth, but she wasn't. No matter how often he dreamed that dream, it would never be real. It was the dream of a desperate man, only his mind reaching for something he couldn't have.

During the day, he struggled against the Resistance, gaining strength with each victory.

During the night, he came to her in that small stone cottage by the sea. He would hold her in his arms, and forget that the First Order or the Resistance existed. He had only caught a glimpse of her surroundings when they had touched hands, but it had been enough to build her a shrine, a place where only she existed and waited for him to return.

“It's only a dream.” Maybe if he said it enough times he would begin to believe it.

 


End file.
